Monday and Every Day After
by chessqueen
Summary: What can I say? It's the Monday after detention. This is rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

Allison Reynolds tossed left, right, then left again. In fact, she'd been tossing and turning all night long. She'd been dreaming again.

At exactly seven o'clock, her alarm clock went off. Beep, beep, beep. Groggily, she rolled onto her side and hit the snooze button. As she lay still, trying to get back to sleep, she could hear the winter wind rattle her bedroom windowpanes. Beep, beep, beep; the alarm sounded again. Annoyed, she reached out from under her down comforter and turned it off. Sluggishly, she sat up.

It was Monday. School. God, she hated school. She didn't fit in there. But today was different; today she was bound to run into Andrew. And then what? She didn't know. She'd felt a connection with him at the end of Saturday detention. And, he'd kissed her, the first boy to do so since Keith Nelson in the sixth grade. Allison sighed as she climbed out of bed and padded to her dresser. Usually she never looked at herself in the mirror, her own reflection repulsed her, but this morning she couldn't help it. She knew she wasn't pretty, but thanks to Claire's trick with some eyeliner and lip-gloss, she'd been able to fool Andrew for a few brief minutes. She'd even been able to fool herself and she definitely should have known better. Reaching over, she pressed the play button on her AM/FM cassette radio, and The Smiths' "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" filled the room. She sighed again as she ran her hand through her limp and stringy hair. Sickening, she thought. Her skin, though blemish free, was dull and pale. As she took one last look at herself, she couldn't help sticking her tongue out. Slowly she walked into the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush, squeezed out some Crest, and began brushing.

That done, she turned on the shower, tore off the t-shirt and panties she'd worn to bed, and stepped in. The water was steaming hot just the way she liked it. But not hot enough to wash away the ugliness, outsider-ness, and numbness she wore. She soaped her breasts. _Too small_, she thought as she ran the washcloth over them, _just barely buds_. Her skin felt rough to her own touch. If Andrew were to see her like this, see the real her, he'd be disgusted.

Quickly, she stepped out of the shower and dried off. It was already 7:20am and she had to be out the door by 7:45. With the towel wrapped around her chest, she stood before the mirror again. Should she or shouldn't she?

It was easier to just follow the same old routine. Change was hard; change would draw attention to herself. _Then again, change had gotten her Andrew for one brief moment, _she thought as she began putting on her underwear. She made her way to her closet, stepping over the piles of books, clothes, and tapes on the floor.

Although she wore black everyday, her closet was full of pretty, girly things; shoes, skirts, blouses, and sweaters her mother had bought her. Of course, her mother never asked her what she liked, and she never seemed to notice that she didn't wear the stuff. _Should she_, Allison wondered again as she thumbed through the various pinks, blues, yellows, and whites. Was Andrew really worth the trouble? A chill ran down her spine as she replayed Saturday afternoon. They'd definitely connected. And she liked the feeling so much, she now craved it like an addict craved drugs. So …, she chose a blue oxford shirt and a black skirt. She had a pair of pantyhose that she'd balled up and thrown in a corner of her room last week that she could wear with the outfit.

Standing in front of her mirror again, Allison picked up the blush she'd bought the day before at Walgreen's and rubbed it onto her cheeks. Next, she applied lip-gloss. Finally, she was faced with her hair. Usually she wore it in a nest on her head but Claire had brushed it and pulled it back with a headband so she did the same.

It had snowed two inches overnight, so she pulled on her black Doc Martens, and threw a pair of black flats in her bag. In that it was already 7:40am, she donned her big black parka, shoved everything on her desk into her bag, rushed downstairs and out her front door.

* * *

Allison could feel her body tense as soon as she set foot on the Shermer High School grounds. She felt that everyone was looking at her, even though logically she knew that as usual, they were ignoring her. As she climbed the stairs, she saw Bender standing with a group of burnouts near the school's entrance though none of them made a move to actually enter the school. As she passed him, Bender gave her a nod but continued talking to his friends.

As soon as she entered the school, Allison immediately ran to her locker. Self-consciously, she peeled off her parka and changed into the flats. A few people stopped to look at her, wondering if she were new. The few who did recognize her from the week before drew back in shock but no one said a word.

Allison scanned the hall looking for Andrew. She had to catch him alone. There was no way she was going to approach him with his friends around. She stood watching the other students pass by. She didn't know any of them and they hadn't bothered to get to know her. She was still standing at her locker when the final bell rang. Dejectedly, she picked up her bag and headed to class. Just as she was walking by the boys' washroom, Andrew walked out.

There he was, Andrew Clark in the flesh, the person she'd been both hoping and dreading seeing. He was tall, muscular, and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and Nikes. He jumped, startled.

"Hi," Andrew said, shifting from foot to foot.

Allison looked down at her shoes. "Hello," she squeaked.

"I need to get to class," Andrew said pushing pass her.

"Wait," Allison said as she grabbed his arm. "I was hoping maybe we could talk."

"I can't right now," he said as he ran his hand through his sandy brown hair. "Late for class."

"How about after school?"

"Wrestling practice."

"Oh. Maybe I could call you later tonight."

"Homework. Look Allison, maybe we could get together next week," he said as he uncomfortably looked down one end of the hallway then the other. "See ya," he said as he swung his backpack over his shoulder then headed down the hall.

Allison stood watching his retreating back. Suddenly, she felt sick. How could she have been so stupid as to think that one moment of connection and some lip-gloss could change what they were? She'd known better, yet … yet, she'd wanted to believe, believe that someone could find her interesting and attractive, believe that someone would understand where she was coming from.

Quickly she turned and made her way to the girls' washroom. After ducking into a stall and locking the door behind her, she cried.

* * *

The heat from the showers hit Andrew Clark as he stepped into the boys' locker room. Head down, he made his way to a bench in the corner. After dropping his bag on the floor, he sat down, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

Why? Why had he blown Allison off? He liked her. She was the most interesting girl he knew. But "interesting" came with a price. Interesting was a euphemism for weird and weird was not acceptable in his world.

"Hey Clark. Earth to Clark," he heard someone say. He looked up to see Mike Kennedy standing over him. Mike was a 6'4", 280 pound, football player. "Dude, how was detention?"

"Okay," Andrew said, shrugging.

"It was probably worth it just to see the look on Lester's face when you taped his ass together," Mike said then laughed.

"Yeah," Andrew said, standing up. "I'd better get suited up for practice."

"Yeah, see ya later," Mike said then walked away. Andrew could hear him mumbling something about freaks with hairy asses.

Andrew sighed as he changed out of his jeans into his shorts. He couldn't tell Mike or any of his other friends that he felt bad about what he'd did to Larry. In fact, his friends believed people like Larry were asking for it when they were harassed. If they would just act normal, they wouldn't be targets.

Andrew took one last look at his friends before turning and walking toward the gym.


	2. Chapter 2

Claire Standish made her way to her usual table in the center of the cafeteria, the one reserved for the popular kids. Though she'd never admit it to anyone, she liked being popular, other girls hated her because they couldn't be her and all the guys wanted to fuck her. Even the male teachers gave her and her kind special treatment.

But popularity came with a price. She could never truly be herself. She couldn't express her doubts and fears because to do so would be social suicide. So like a character in some Greek tragedy, she wore a mask.

"Do you believe what Josie had on today?" her best friend Jessica asked. Unlike her and her friends who wore Ralph Lauren, Guess, and Sergio Valente, Josie had committed the cardinal sin of wearing clothes purchased at Sears, Kmart, or some store like that. "Honestly, I've seen bag ladies with better style."

"Where?" Paul Hargrove asked. Paul was easy-going with beautiful blue eyes and fly-away brown hair. Plus, he had the most amazing dimples.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Back me up Claire. She did look awful, didn't she?"

"Yeah." Granted Josie did look bad in her neon orange jumper, but why did her friends feel the need to rag on people? And why did she always feel the need to join in?

"What happened to you Saturday night? Stubby's party was awesome."

"My mom said I couldn't go."

"So why didn't you ask your dad?" Jessica said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and she was a moron for not thinking of it herself.

"I don't know. I guess I was tired after detention."

Jessica gasped. "I forgot you had detention. God that must have been horrible," she said as she brushed her blonde hair out of her face. "I can only imagine the kind of people who get Saturday detention. Total rejects."

"Andrew Clark was there."

"Andrew!"

"Yeah," Paul cut in. "He taped Larry Lester's ass cheeks together. Classic."

"Guys can be so gross," Jessica said then took a bite of her watercress sandwich.

Claire suddenly thought of Bender and smiled. She hadn't seen him all day and honestly, she was glad. He wasn't all bad, but a girl like her didn't end up with a guy like him. She knew that and he knew that, end of story.

"Hello Claire," she heard a soft voice say. She turned to see Brian Johnson standing next to her. All conversation at the table stopped as all eyes turned to stare at them. Brian's pale skin and slouching, lanky frame looked totally out of place among the beautiful people of Shermer High.

"Hi," Claire said, looking away embarrassed. Why is he doing this? Why can't he just play the game, she silently asked.

It didn't take long for Brian to realize what was going on. In no time, he began fidgeting and looking as uncomfortable as Claire felt. "See ya," he said. Just as he turned to leave, he fell spread-eagle on the floor, his tray and the food on it sliding everywhere. Claire's entire table erupted in laughter.

"Sorry dude," Paul said, a spiteful look on his face.

Claire felt paralyzed. She knew she should do something, but ….

Brian got up, gathering as much as he could. "Sorry," he mumbled to Claire then headed toward the garbage cans near the exit.

"Do you believe that guy?" Paul said, shaking his head.

"Why did you do that?" Claire asked quietly.

"Do what?" Paul responded, a smile spreading across his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You didn't have to do that to him."

"Chill Claire," Jessica said giving her a disapproving look. "He's just some dweeb. Why do you care?"

"He's a nice guy, that's all."

"How do you know? You're not hanging out with him, are you? Is this adopt-a-geek week?"

"Never mind," Claire said, standing up. She began clearing away her lunch. "I'll see you guys later. I need to stop by the library."

"Whatever," Jessica said, turning her back to Claire.

Quickly, Claire walked to the garbage cans, threw out a half-eaten Cobb salad, and headed out of the cafeteria.


	3. Chapter 3

Bitch, Bender thought as he watched Claire leave the lunchroom. She hadn't noticed him sitting at the back of the cafeteria. And why should she? According to Sporto, he might as well not even exist at this school. Well invisibility had its advantages and from his vantage point, he'd gotten an eyeful.

She'd treated Brian like shit, and though she'd kissed him and given him one of her precious diamond stud earrings, he knew he'd be in for a lot worse. Well bring it on honey, he thought as he stood to follow her.

"Yo Bender, where you going?" his friend Dez asked, mouth full.

"None of your 'f'-ing business," Bender said as he grabbed an apple from his other friend Marty's tray and put it in the pocket of his beat-up leather jacket.

"I was planning to eat that," Marty said, not bothering to look up from the Playboy he had stashed under the table.

Bender shrugged then walked toward the exit. The hallway was deserted except for him, Claire, and a girl rushing to the administration office. He hung back and watched as Claire turned into the library. A few seconds later, he found her standing at the card catalog, a drawer open. Quietly, he walked up to her.

"Hello Claire," he breathed into her ear.

She jumped, knocking over her books which had been perched precariously on the edge of the table. They landed with a loud thud. A few students and the librarian turned to see what the commotion was, but quickly went back to what they were doing.

"John," Claire stammered. Quickly she bent down to retrieve her books. As she rose, she left enough room for two people to stand between them.

"How's it going Claire?" he said, cocking his head. He hoped he sounded dangerous. He knew girls like Claire, though they'd never admit it, liked the bad boy. At least they liked the idea of screwing the bad boy. Typical fantasy, he thought. Hell, he whacked off to dreams of sexing tightly-wounded, goody-goody daddy's girls.

"Fine," she said. Her eyes cut across the room like those of a trapped animal.

"I was thinking," he said, closing the distance between them. "Maybe we could get together after school." He reached out and ran a finger along her arm.

Claire stiffened at his touch as a shiver ran down her spine and a hot flush consumed her body. Her breathing was suddenly more labored, and she began to feel light-headed. "I can't," she said, stepping out of his reach.

"Aw c'mon Claire," Bender said advancing. His heart beat wildly in his chest. As much as he hated to admit it, Claire did something to him.

"Really I can't. I have to go," she said pushing past him and rushing toward the doors.

"Toodles Claire," Bender shouted after her.

"Shhh, young man," the librarian admonished.

He winked at her, turned, and headed to the back of the library where the stacks were. These next few weeks are going to be fun he thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Allison Reynolds trudged up the stairs of Shermer High, her head down. After Monday's fiasco with Andrew, she wasn't interested in talking to anyone, especially members of "The Breakfast Club." So, she'd decided to revert back to her old ways – head down, mouth closed, alone, and invisible.

A certain amount of shame washed over her every time she thought about the fact that she'd actually worn makeup to school. Makeup! Who had she been fooling? After peeling off her coat and stuffing it in her locker, she headed to the auditorium. At this time of day, early morning, it was empty except for a few kids skipping class. One would think that Vernon and Rooney, the principal and the vice principal respectively, would have caught on by now, but they hadn't. After scanning the room, she plopped down in a chair, gathered her sweater around her, and propped her booted feet on the seat in front of her. Next, she took out her sketchpad and flipped it to a series of nudes she'd done of Mickey and Minnie Mouse. She sat, sketching, until she heard a voice say, "You look better this way."

Allison jumped. She turned to see John Bender standing behind her. He leaped over the seats, and sat down next to her.

"What?" she asked, shoving the sketchpad back into her bag.

"I like you better this way. The other day you looked liked some commie clone. Seriously," Bender said as he put his hand over his chest, "it broke my heart when I saw you dressed like a mindless, conformist preppy."

Allison looked away embarrassed. She didn't know what to make of Bender. He could be a jerk. The way he'd treated Claire during detention had been way too harsh. But with Bender, you always knew where you stood. Of course, she sighed, she knew where she stood with Andy too.

"So how did it go with Sporto?"

"It didn't," she replied quietly. She refused to let her emotions show. She'd done enough emoting that Monday in the girls' bathroom and later at home to last a lifetime.

"I wish I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not. The princess and the sport, no way would they allow themselves to be seen with the likes of us."

"So you and Claire didn't …."

"Nope. But I have a little surprise for Miss Claire."

Allison knew better than to ask what.

"You're too good for him Allie," Bender said standing up. "Do yourself a favor and forget about him."

Forget him, Allison thought as soon as Bender had left. She wished she could, but she couldn't. He'd made her feel for god's sake. Allison slinked down in the seat as if her thoughts were a beacon that had been transmitted to everyone in the auditorium. Then she thought of Bender and smiled. More precisely, she thought of his anger, his defiance, his swagger.

It was as if some of Bender's essence had rubbed off on her. Who did Andrew Clark think he was? Who was he to kiss her and play with her affections? Who was he, she thought as hot tears ran down her face, who was he to reduce her to this? Wiping her face, Allison sat up straighter in her chair. She wasn't out for revenge like John, but she'd show him. She'd show Andrew that he hadn't broken her.

* * *

"Please tell me this is a goddamn joke," Benny Hanson said as she sauntered down the hallway, her best friend and second-in-command Jena Hoeman flanking her left and Claire on her right.

Though only 5'6", Benny was the biggest bitch at Shermer High. Jena was a very close second. And Claire hated them both. That said, she was nobody's fool. To be on Benny's shit list was to have a death wish.

"I wish the fuck it was," Jena said as she rummaged around in her Louis Vuitton bag. "Blane really is dating that skank Andie Walsh."

"She's such a whore. She wanted to fuck Steff, but he told her to go to hell."

Claire knew not to say a word, but truthfully, she liked Andie Walsh. And though her clothes were totally thrift store, Claire had to admit Andie had style. More importantly, Andie wasn't afraid of what people thought of her. She stood up for herself. And Blane? He was the nicest guy in their group. She would have never guessed though that he'd end up with someone like Andie. That was almost like her ending up with ….

"Anyway," Jena's voice cut into her thoughts. "No one will have anything to do with him. Hardy Jenns and those guys are even talking about kicking his ass."

"I can't believe Blane would give everything up for … uhhh," Benny finished, a look of utter disgust on her face. "Do you have any cigarettes Jena?"

"Yeah, just found some in the bottom of my bag."

"Let's duck in here for a quick smoke," Benny said pointing to the washroom up ahead. "Claire, you coming?"

"I can't. I need to grab a book from my locker." She only had five minutes to get Hamlet and get to her English Lit class before the late bell rang. Ms. Close had warned her that if she were late again, she'd get detention. Needless to say, she was determined to avoid that at all costs.

However upon reaching the third floor landing, she could tell that something was up. A small crowd had gathered in the middle of the hall. As she neared, she could hear peals of laughter and see people pointing.

"Does anyone know whose locker that is?" Samantha Baker asked as she and her friend Randy passed. Claire pushed her way through the crowd.

Then stopped.

Spray painted on her locker was the words "**CHERRY FOREVER**."

Like a clairvoyant felled by a vision, she just knew who had done this. Instinctively she scanned the crowd. Finally she spotted him standing in a corner.

He smiled then raised his arm in a salute.

Bender!

Angrily, Claire turned, forcing her way back through the crowd. She had to see Ms. Sparrow the school nurse. There was no way she could make it to the end of the day.

* * *

Andrew sat in his friend Dave's car, watching as droplets of condensed water rolled down the windowpane. A few weeks had passed since he'd blown off Allison, and except for constant thoughts of her, his life had returned to normal.

His old man was still riding him about placing at State. In fact, he'd had to sneak out of the house tonight to attend Stubby's party. What a waste. Standing in Stubby's living room, he'd been surrounded by his friends, yet he'd felt alone.

Of course, this hadn't been the first time he'd felt this way. But it had been more pronounced this time because he knew it didn't have to be this way. If he just had the courage, he could talk to her, touch her, kiss her.

Angrily Andy shook his head then buried it in his hands. He was a coward. He wanted Allison but he wasn't man enough to pursue her. He wanted to tell his dad to stuff wrestling, but he couldn't. A college scholarship was riding on wresting; his father's hopes and dreams were riding on wrestling; coach's job and expectations were riding on wrestling.

Slowly he started Dave's car. A plan had been forming in the back of his mind for a long time, a plan he'd been too afraid of articulating even to himself. It was nearing eleven o'clock as Andrew pulled out of Stubby's driveway and headed toward Shermer Rd. The drive to the Metra station was a quiet one, the streets of Shermer deserted. The 10:35pm commuter train was due in from Chicago at 11:19pm. And then what?

It would be over. As he neared the train station, a weird calmness came over him. No more Allison, no more dad, no more coach, no more wrestling, no more … pain.

Streetlamps illuminated the empty parking lot and the train tracks before him. Fifteen minutes until the train arrives, he thought looking down at his watch. Carefully, Andrew maneuvered Dave's car onto the train platform, then drove it onto the tracks.

He felt numb, his mind blank, as he began rocking back and forth in the car seat. In the distance, he could hear the warning whistle as the train made its way toward the Shermer station. He closed his eyes.

Once the train hits, it will be over in an instant. He imagined his neck and vertebrae shattering upon impact. He silently prayed he wouldn't suffer.

Suddenly, he heard a loud banging against the window. He opened his eyes.

"Dumbass, the train's coming, get the fuck off the track."

Bender!

"The train is coming," Bender yelled. "What are you trying to do, kill yourself!"

Yeah, Andy thought. Funny, he'd never used the words kill, suicide or die to describe what he'd been contemplating. Instead, he'd always chosen words like freedom, release, and peace. But didn't they all mean the same thing?

Andy watched dazedly as Bender frantically gestured for him to get off the train tracks. In the distance, he could hear the train from Chicago approaching. All of a sudden the driver's side window shattered, and Bender reached into the car and popped the door's lock. After wrenching it open, he reached across Andy's body and turned the key in the ignition. He put his foot on top of Andy's, pushing down on the gas pedal, and rolled the car across the tracks to the opposite platform. A minute later, train 2157 pulled into the Shermer station. As soon as it came to a full stop, two conductors hopped off. The one nearest Bender yelled, "You getting on, son?" He looked quizzically at Dave's car parked on the platform but said nothing.

"No sir," Bender shouted back.

The man climbed back onto the train and it took off into the night.

Bender stood stunned as his heart pounded in his chest. Get a grip, he said to himself. Rounding on Andrew he screamed, "What the fuck were you doing?"

Andy remained rooted to the car seat, staring ahead as if in a trance.

Angrily, Bender bent down and grabbed Andy by the front of his letterman's jacket and hoisted him out of the car. "I don't fucking believe you," Bender continued. "If you don't give a damn about your miserable life, then at least think about the poor stiffs coming home from work you could've killed."

Bender's words cut like a knife, stinging Andrew out of his stupor. As the realization of what could have happened hit him, he fell to the ground as if on legs of jelly, his body suddenly shaking and racked with sobs. He hadn't thought things through that far. All he'd thought about was his pain, and the need to be free of it. It never occurred to him that he could have killed someone else by driving that car onto the tracks.

"I'm so sorry, so sorry," he wailed, tears streaming down his face.

For once, Bender was at a lost for words. The only thing he could think to do was kneel next to Andrew and awkwardly pat his shoulder.

* * *

Bender stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed home, light snow flurries falling on his bare head. What had happened tonight? The Sport had tried to off himself, that's what. Bender couldn't believe it.

Sure, Andrew had talked about his old man pushing him to excel at sports and all, but truth be told, a father like that would be a dream compared to his dad.

Granted, he wouldn't have been at that train station if it hadn't been for his particular brand of father.

His wintry Hallmark moment had consisted of coming home to find his father whaling on his mother.

"_Whore," John Sr. said as he kicked his wife in the stomach. She was on the floor curled up in the fetal position, whimpering, her arms covering her head._

"_What the fuck," Bender said, rushing to pull his father off of her. _

"_All I ask is that you keep this house clean and that you have dinner ready when I come home. You stupid bitch, you can't even do that." _

_Bender grabbed his father's arm and flung him against a wall. Fear fuelled adrenaline flooded his veins. He felt like a runner poised at the starting block anticipating the pistol going off. "You want to beat on someone, beat on me." _

_"This ain't any of your business boy," his father snarled. "If you know what's good for you, you'd stay out of it."_

"_Well, I'm making it my business."_

_His old man's face turned purple as a palpable burning rage consumed him. A vein along the side of his neck throbbed against his taunt skin. His father took a swing at him just as he'd anticipated; still, he barely managed to step out of the way. _

"_I'll kill you, motherfucker," his old man said, reaching for a knife sitting on the counter._

"_Don't John," his mother called out. Both men turned to face her. Her face and arms were bruised, her lip busted, her white blouse soaked in blood._

_"Don't tell me what I can or can't do in my own house. I pay the bills around here. I'm king of this castle."_

_"Castle," Bender snorted. "Try shithole. Yeah dad, you sure are king of this shithole."_

_His father lunged at him. His mother screamed. John ducked out of the way._

_"Johnny, go. Leave your dad and_ _me alone," his mother said forcing herself between them. _

_"You'd better run you worthless pussy. Get the hell out of here and don't bother coming back."_

_"Go Johnny, I'll be okay," his mother said as she pushed Bender toward the living room. "Go to your friend's house."_

_Bender didn't feel like arguing though he felt reluctant to leave. Hesitantly, he walked back through the living room and out the front door._

He hadn't had anywhere to go. He'd just left Dez's house and hadn't felt comfortable going back there. He hadn't been in the mood for a party, so he'd decided to walk around instead. That's how he'd come upon Andrew.

Bender didn't know how long they'd sat in that parking lot. But now that he'd safely gotten Andrew home, it was time for him to head home himself. Hopefully, his father would be passed out and he wouldn't have to deal with him.

Quietly, Bender let himself into his family's one story house. Just as he'd suspected, his father was sprawled on the living room sofa, the tv on but the sound mute. He continued on to the back of the house where his bedroom was. He flicked on the light. Pictures torn from magazines - Rush, Boston, Farrah Fawcett, Brook Shields, and Penthouse Playmates – barely covered the peeling paint on the walls. He took off his jacket, threw it into a corner of his room, then kicked off his boots. Next, he removed his jeans, balled them up and threw them in the direction of his jacket. Grabbing his walkman off his dresser, he climbed into bed, putting his earphones over his head. He tuned the radio to WLUP, but quickly shut it off.

Claire. He hated to admit it, but he still liked her even after that bullshit with Brian and that thing in the library. In fact, unbeknownst to her, he'd been watching her for months. Imagine his surprise, when Claire Standish had walked into detention. Talk about a wet dream. As the saying goes, there's a thin line between love and hate. He hated Claire. She was rich, popular, and beautiful, and he could never conceive of a universe where she would want him.

Shit, I'm almost as fucked up as Andrew, Bender thought as he turned on his side. As much as he "hated" Claire, he hated himself more. He hated being poor; he hated his alcoholic, abusive father, and the fact that his mother didn't have the strength to leave. If it weren't for her, he'd skipped out long ago.

John old boy, he said to himself, you're a fucking cliché.

* * *

Brian Johnson walked along the north corridor to the physics lab. There was a physics meet on Saturday at Glenbrook North High School and he wanted to get in some extra practice. As he turned the corner, he saw Andrew up ahead, surrounded by a group of jocks. He hadn't even tried talking to anyone else since he'd approached Claire a few weeks ago. And though he'd had ample time to think about what he'd done, he honestly couldn't say why he'd approached her. Hadn't she told them all at Saturday detention that things wouldn't change between them? Why hadn't he just listened to her? Why had friendship with "The Breakfast Club" been so important to him? It wasn't like he didn't have any friends.

"Brian, Brian," someone called. He turned to see Larry Lester beside him. He and Larry had been friends, though not best friends, since second grade. Ever since Andrew's prank, he hadn't seen much of him.

"Hey, what's up Larry?" he said giving the other boy a warm smile.

"Hey. Ready for Saturday's meet?"

"Yeah."

Suddenly mass pandemonium exploded in the hall. The sounds of loud cheering, shouting, banging on lockers, and wolf whistles deafeningly filled the air.

"In all my years at Shermer, I … I …," a kid exclaimed as he rushed pass. "I've got to tell my boys."

Brian and Larry looked at each other both clueless as to what was going on. Then out of the crowd emerged Cliff and Bryce, two guys they knew from Computer Club.

"What's going on?"

"You won't believe this," Bryce said excitedly. "This is big Brian."

"Bigger than female extraterrestrial," Cliff added.

"What?" Brian shouted over the noise and the increasing crowd of spectators. He craned his neck to see what was going on. And as the crowd parted, he saw her. Allison. She was walking through the halls of Shermer High … NAKED.

"Oh my god," Larry said breathlessly next to him. Brian looked away. He "knew" Allison. It just didn't seem right for him to look at her that way. Instead, he scanned the crowd for Andrew. Needless to say, the Sport was stunned. Andy's eyes were wide, his mouth open in an "o". Around him, his friends, yelled and whistled at Allison. A few even tried touching her.

As Allison passed him, she nodded her head but said nothing.

"You know her"? Larry asked in amazement.

"Yeah."

"How? When? Where?" Larry, Cliff, and Bryce asked in unison.

"Just around."

"Geez Brian, you knowing her is almost as big as Ted dating the prom queen," Bryce said shaking his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone, they are greatly appreciated.

Samantha Baker, Jake Ryan, Bryce, Cliff, and Ted are characters from Sixteen Candles. Andie Walsh, Benny Hanson, Steff, Blane McDonnagh, and Jena Hoeman are from Pretty in Pink. Hardy Jenns, Amanda Jones, Keith Nelson, and Watts are from Some Kind of Wonderful. Ed Rooney, Grace, and Ferris Bueller are from Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

* * *

Scared to be you

Living in fear

Expression is rare

I dare you

_Expression (written by C. James)_

Allison sat outside Mr. Hashimoto's office pretending not to notice the dozen or so eyes trained on her. A small crowd had gathered outside of administration, kids with their noses pressed against the clear plastic partition trying to catch a glimpse of the crazy girl who had walked down the hall naked.

"Was it because of a boy, dear?" Grace, the plump and perky school secretary asked.

Honestly … no, Allison thought to herself. Yes, she'd wanted to show Andrew that he hadn't broken her. But walking down that hall had been so much more than that. It had been her way of freeing herself from the shackles placed on her by her parents, her peers, and most importantly herself.

"Leave me out of this Ed," she heard Vernon say through Hashimoto's closed door. "You're vice principal, discipline is your job."

"C'mon Richard, I have Bueller to worry about. I can't handle him and this girl too."

"Well I have Bender. I'd take Ferris Bueller over John Bender any day."

"Guys," Mr. Hashimoto began but Rooney cut him off.

"I'm deputizing you."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm making you a temporary vice principal, Hashimoto. You deal with the girl."

"But I'm a guidance counselor."

A few seconds later, Rooney opened the door and stepped out into the main office followed by Vernon.

"Grace," he said not bothering to look at Allison. "I want Bueller in my office now."

Vernon, however, stopped, a look of constipated disgust on his face. "Well, you've done it now missy. I hope you're proud." He turned, crossed the room, and opened the administration office door. "Either get away from this window," he shouted, "or face suspension. There's nothing to see here."

"Ms. Reynolds, come in," Mr. Hashimoto said quietly. Without a word, she followed him into his office where he promptly shut the door. He looked like she imagined Atlas must have felt with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It pained her a little to know that she was causing him so much trouble because she knew he was the only one who cared about her. With heavy steps, he walked behind his desk and sat down. Next, he took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

Mr. Hashimoto's office was small, the wall behind him lined with diplomas and certificates. He'd gotten his MA in education from the University of Illinois and he'd taken some childhood development courses at Northwestern. To Allison's right was a bookshelf lined with college handbooks, career guides, and books on education. In the corner of his desk sat a silver picture frame with a photograph of a boy and girl about twelve and eight in it.

After a few minutes, he sighed, putting his glasses back on.

"Why Allison?" he asked.

Her first impulse was to say nothing. What was the point? He wouldn't understand. No one would. But there was something inside her dying to let someone know the truth she'd discovered.

"I felt like it."

"Excuse me?"

"I felt like it. Ever since I was nine years old, I've been made to feel bad about myself - by my parents, other kids. But I don't care what they think anymore, and I like it. I am determined to be me, on my own terms."

"Allison," Mr. Hashimoto began.

"I'm tired of feeling ashamed. I'm not doing it anymore," she cut him off. "You just don't know how free I feel."

"You're right. Being introverted and quiet is one thing, but this … I'll have to call your parents and set up a conference."

"They're out of town."

Mr. Hashimoto sighed again. "When will they be back?"

"Some time next week."

"Allison, I really need to speak to a guardian."

"Well, there's Rosa, our housekeeper."

"What about grandparents?"

"Florida."

"Just great," Mr. Hashimoto said as his shoulders fell, defeat visibly creeping into his body. "Without a parent or suitable guardian, it makes no sense suspending you now. But make no mistake, you will be suspended. I'm supposed to expel you, but I know you're a good kid. Confused, but a good kid."

"Can I go now?" Allison asked defiantly.

Hashimoto sighed again. "Sure."

She rose. As she opened the door, he said softly, "Good luck Allison, you're going to need it. Those kids out there are the most vicious little bastards I've ever met."

Head up, she maneuvered her way through the main office until she found herself alone in the hallway. She didn't feel like going to class, yet she wasn't ready to face the cold, quiet dwelling she called home, so she headed to the auditorium. As usual, the room was filled with kids cutting class. Not looking at anyone, she made her way to a seat in the back and sat down.

She frowned as she looked down at her hands. Her nails and fingertips were red and raw from biting them, the skin of her hands lined and cracked from dryness. Tiring of this, she pulled out her sketchpad and began drawing. She'd been working on a portrait of "The Breakfast Club" – Claire in her expensive clothes, Brian with his doe-like eyes, Bender's angry stare, Andrew in all his muscular glory, and herself, her hair covering her face. Suddenly, she felt someone standing next to her. Looking up, she saw Brian Johnson shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"What's wrong with you? I'm the one who just walked down the hall naked," she said in a tone she hoped was upbeat and reassuring.

Brian smiled hesitantly. "May I?" he asked indicating the seat next to her. "Go ahead."

He sat down. For what seemed like an eternity, neither spoke.

They heard a guy at the front of the auditorium scream 'naked' then the group surrounding him began laughing.

"Done anything exciting lately?" Brian asked.

"Mmmmm," Allison said pretending to think about it. "Now that you mention it.

"Brian, what do you want?"

He shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Why did you do it? Was it because of Andy?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

He shrugged.

"No it was not because of Andrew. I just felt like it, that's all."

"Weren't you scared?"

She thought about it for a moment. Truthfully, she'd tried talking herself out of it, but in the end, she'd said 'screw it' and ripped off her clothes. When she'd stepped out of the washroom, a heart-stopping fear had gripped her, but it was quickly followed by a rush of adrenaline, and finally a strange calmness. A calmness that said 'fuck you, I don't care what you think, I'm doing my own thing.'

"At first," she finally answered.

Again, they both went silent.

"Allison."

"Mmmmm."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry, Brian?"

"I'm sorry I didn't speak to you, you know, the Monday after detention. I spoke to Claire. It didn't go too well. I just didn't want it to happen again."

"Didn't I tell you I wouldn't treat you like that?"

He said nothing.

* * *

Andrew pulled his letterman's jacket closer to him as he crossed the muddy athletic field behind the school. Allison naked! Never in a million years for a million dollars would he walk the halls of Shermer naked.

She'd barely looked at him, but he'd gotten an eyeful of her.

"Glad you didn't kill yourself now, aren't you?" a voice said from behind him.

He didn't have to turn around to know who that was. He'd been avoiding the guy for the past two weeks. Needless to say, he was embarrassed that a tool like Bender had seen him at his lowest point. He blushed even now at the thought that he'd actually tried to kill himself. Yet, at the time, it seemed like the most logical thing in the world to do.

"So?" Bender asked sidling up to him.

"What?" Andrew asked angrily. He still didn't know what to make of the guy and it was screwing with his head. Even after detention, after all that they'd shared with each other, he'd still thought of Bender as an asshole. But … but, the guy had not only saved his life, but had kept it a secret.

"Sport, you're not fooling anyone and neither is Allison. You two have it bad for each other. Now she's put herself out there. What are you going to do?"

Andrew didn't know what he was going to do. So he sped up, hoping Bender would just go away.

"You can't hide forever you know?"

"Look Bender," Andrew said stopping and turning to face him. "Thanks for helping me out the other night. I was a little wasted."

"Liar."

Andrew's heart caught in his throat. There was no fooling Bender. "Look asshole, you don't know me. I said thanks. Let's leave it at that, okay?"

Anger flashed across Bender's face. For a second, Andrew thought he was going to deck him, but he didn't. Still, Andy couldn't help noticing Bender's hand flexing in and out of a fist.

"You're a pussy, you know that. People may think Allison's a freak, but she's too good for you. I think I made a mistake saving your sorry ass. You're hiding from a girl who obviously cares about you because you're so worried about what your friends will say. You're a real man, Andrew."

Bender's words cut like a knife because they were the truth and Andrew knew it. He also knew he had to do something. If he didn't, he'd end up on another railroad track so to speak and John Bender wouldn't be around to save him.

"You're one to talk, Cherry Forever," Andrew said. With that, he turned, continuing across the athletic field alone.


	6. Chapter 6

"The freaks are getting out of hand," Benny said as she brushed her blond hair out of her eyes. She, Jena, Jessica, and Claire had ditched 8th period and were now sitting in the food court at the mall.

"I totally agree," Jessica said, playing with her frozen yogurt. Like Benny and Jena, she was dressed in Sergio Valente jeans and an off-the-shoulder Guess sweatshirt. Claire, on the other hand, was dressed in a Gloria Vanderbilt denim skirt and a white oxford blouse from Polo. It was as if a memo had gone out but she hadn't gotten it.

"Well ladies, it's up to us to teach them a lesson."

"A lesson?" Jessica parroted Benny.

"Yep. Andie Walsh is dating Blane; Jake Ryan is dating that Samantha Baker. These freaks have to be put in their places. I suggest we start with that girl who walked down the hall naked this morning."

"Allison," Claire said involuntarily, immediately wishing she hadn't.

"You know her," Jessica asked incredulously, turning to face Claire.

"Not really, we had detention together."

Jessica turned back to her yogurt satisfied. However, Claire couldn't help noticing a curious look flash across Benny's face though the other girl said nothing.

"Anyway," Jena said as she took a cigarette out of her bag. "We need to teach 'Allison' a lesson. Any ideas?"

A sense of foreboding suddenly came over Claire. She knew Allison wasn't a bad person. In fact, she really liked her. But she knew trying to tell that to Benny and Jena was like trying to convince her friends that Kmart was just as good as Neiman Marcus. In any case, if she said anything, she'd just end up a target along with Allison.

"Claire?" Benny asked her pointedly.

"Uhhh … I can't think of anything," she said shrugging.

"Well," Jessica began. "This girl is clearly a whore. We could spread rumors about her, get people talking."

"Maybe," Benny said thoughtfully. "To bad, we don't know anyone who could give us the inside track on this bitch. Someone who knows who she likes."

Claire's heart pounded against her chest as if desperate to get out. While her body sat paralyzed with fear, her mind raced. Did Benny know something or did she just have an amazingly freaky sixth sense?

"Yeah, then we could do some Carrie type shit to her," Jena said as she lit her cigarette.

* * *

Benny drove her black BMW up the circular drive and parked it in front of the Jenns' six bedroom Colonial house. The humiliation Hardy Jenns had recently suffered at the hands of that bitch Amanda Jones had been criminal. Of course, he'd deserved it for dating a girl from the wrong side of the tracks; he was still one of them. To make matters worse, that loser Keith Nelson and his dirty friend Watts had played a hand in it. Disgusting. But at least the rejects had enough loyalty to stick together.

Benny rang the doorbell. A few minutes later, the Jenns' Jamaican housekeeper Marguerite opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Is Hardy home?"

"Yes, he is. Come in," Marguerite said stepping aside to let Benny enter. The Jenns' foyer was expansive. The cathedral ceiling was at least ten feet tall with a skylight in the ceiling. Marguerite walked to an intercom system and pushed a button. "Hardy," the woman said. "You have a guest. What's your name, sweetheart?" Marguerite asked, a warm smile on her face.

"Benny."

"A miss Benny is here to see you."

"I'll be right down."

"Let me show you to the sitting room." Marguerite led Benny to a large room off the foyer, a room with plush white carpeting and cream colored walls, large bay windows, and furnished in brown leather.

After Benny sat down, Marguerite left the room closing the door behind her. A few minutes later, it opened and Hardy walked into the room. He was tall, blond, and solidly built, his face characterized by a sneer though his did not compare with that of Benny's boyfriend Steff.

"Benny Hanson, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I can't stop by and visit a friend?" Benny asked coquettishly.

"I know you Benny," Hardy said walking over to the sofa and sitting down next to her. "What do you want?" he asked as he casually ran his finger along the inside of Benny's thigh.

Adrenaline shot through her. A part of her wanted to rip off his clothes and do him right there on the couch. But to do so, would be to give up her advantage and she couldn't do that. She'd learned a long time ago that sex could be used as a weapon.

Benny purred.

Hardy took a deep breath, leaning towards her. His hand moved from her thigh to her collarbone. Benny sat still as he used his index finger to trace a line down the center of her chest between her breasts.

"Does Steff know you're here?" he asked, his voice low, guttural.

"Honey, I don't tell Steff everything; I'm my own woman."

Hardy gave her a knowing smile. Then his face went blank and he sat up straight. "No more games, Benny. What do you want?"

"Don't be like that," she said turning to face him and dropping her tanned arms on his shoulder, caressing his neck. "But since you asked, I need something, something that'll make someone talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah, something that will relax someone, make them willing to answer some questions."

"And why do you need something like that? Steff cheating on you?" he asked as he pushed her arms away.

In a frenzy, she popped up like a top and slapped Hardy squarely across the face. "I don't care how you treated that whore Amanda Jones, but I'll be damned if you treat me that way."

"Get the fuck out of here," Hardy said rising. Benny could see his body shaking with anger. She needed Hardy's help. The last thing she'd meant to do to him was piss him off by bringing up the girl who'd recently dumped him.

"Look baby," she said softly, taking a cautious step toward him. "I didn't mean anything by that," she said as she ran her hand along his chest stopping at his waist. Though she could see that Hardy was still wired, Benny could tell she'd gotten his attention.

Slowly, her hand continued its downward trek finally stopping at his genitals. "About that drug baby …."

* * *

"Okay ladies, let's toast to being young, rich, and popular," Benny said as she lifted her glass of champagne into the air.

"Let's get this party started," Jena said as she turned on the stereo. David Bowie's 'Let's Dance' suddenly filling the room.

"Drink up Claire," Benny said to the red-haired girl. Truthfully, she didn't like Claire Standish, but she was a richie so she tolerated her. Besides, Claire was so easy to manipulate, going along with everything the group did. So she'd been intrigued when Claire hadn't seemed to want to help bring down this Allison chick. She knew she was hiding something. Well, within the next half hour, the white stuff Hardy had given her would work its magic.

Benny made her way across the room to stand next to Jena at the stereo.

"Well?" Jena asked.

"Give it time. If anyone knows where to get the good stuff, Hardy does."

"I hope you know what you're doing?"

"You don't trust me?" Benny asked, turning to face Jena.

"Of course, I do. I just don't want to have to explain anything to the police should Claire overdose."

"Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

She was finding it increasingly difficult to focus. What's wrong with me, Claire wondered. It's not as if I've never had champagne before. She felt both tired and relaxed at the same time. All she wanted to do was go to sleep in Benny's pink bed in her pink and white room. Suddenly Claire lost her balance. With her arms outstretched, she righted herself, carefully making her way over to the bed.

"Are you okay Claire?" Benny asked standing over her.

"I … I," Claire said falling back onto the bed.

"Claire. Earth to Claire," Jena said.

Though they were standing next to her, they sounded so far away. It was as if they were talking to her through a tunnel.

"Tell us about Allison."

"Allison?" she asked groggily.

"Yeah, that girl from detention."

"She's okay," Claire said. Try as she might, she couldn't think clearly. And Benny's voice was just so hypnotic, lulling her to sleep.

"Does she like anyone?" Jena asked softly.

"Mmmmm," Claire moaned softly, trying to fight the urge to talk. She knew telling Benny and Jena anything was dangerous. But she couldn't seem to stop herself. "She likes Andy."

"Andy?"

"Andrew Clark."

The next minute Claire Standish blacked out but not before noticing the huge smiles on Benny and Jena's faces.


	7. Chapter 7

A continuing unease filled Claire as she stepped through the doors of Shermer High, she just couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible had happened over the weekend.

What she knew for sure was that she'd blacked out Saturday night at Benny's house. Of course, she'd heard stories of kids getting wasted and passing out, but all she'd had was one glass of champagne. Next, she remembered waking up in Benny's bed, sneaking out of her house, and walking home alone in the wee hours of the morning. The rest of that Sunday, she stayed in bed, feverish and nauseated, trying to remember the lost hours, but to no avail.

Thankfully, morning classes passed by in a haze. And before she knew it, it was lunchtime. Usually she ate with Jessica and Paul, but as soon as she walked into the cafeteria, Benny and Jena waved her over to their table. How she hated them, but when Queen Benny summoned you, you went.

"Hey," Claire said sitting down. Quickly she unpacked her lunch – a watercress sandwich, a salad, and a Diet Coke. The sooner she finished eating, she reasoned, the sooner she could make up an excuse to leave.

"Claire," Benny said looking into her eyes. The intensity of her stare made Claire's blood run cold. There was something unsettling, sinister almost in the way Benny looked at her.

"Yes." She could feel sweat forming on her upper lip.

"Remember when we talked about teaching the freaks a lesson?"

"Yeah," Claire said, placing her sandwich back in her lunch bag.

"We're getting back at that bitch Allison and you're going to help us do it."

Claire's heart stopped, terror gripping her as she wondered what Benny could possibly have in mind.

"You're going to make a play for Andrew Clark," Jena said, a smile spreading across her face.

"What?" Claire sputtered. She couldn't have heard correctly. There was no way she could put the moves on Andrew. Number one, she didn't think of him that way, and number two; she couldn't do that to Allison.

"We have it on very good authority that Allison likes Andrew," Benny said, exchanging a look with Jena. "And there's no better way to put her in her place than for you to do Andrew and rub her nose in it."

Claire looked from Benny to Jena, horrified.

"I can't," she stammered. "Andy is like a brother to me. We've been friends since freshman year."

"Are you refusing to do this?" Benny asked lowering her voice and leaning forward. "Because if you are Claire, I can make your life a living hell. I can fix it so that no one at this school will have anything to do with you. You might as well not even exist."

"But …," Claire began.

"Think about it," Benny said cutting her off. Without another word, she and Jena stood, after which they walked away leaving Claire sitting alone.

The next morning passed without incident and though she saw Benny and Jena that afternoon when she entered the cafeteria, they didn't call her over and she didn't approach them. Naturally, she made her way to her usual lunch table, but as she neared, Jessica McDonald, her best friend since the sixth grade, the person she'd told about her first menstrual period, the girl who she'd gossiped with about the boys she liked, put her Louis Vuitton bag on the empty seat next to her preventing Claire from sitting down. Paul Hargrove, with his easy manner and amazing smile, someone she considered a friend, turned his back on her.

"Hey guys," Claire said looking perplexedly from one to the other. Neither said a word. "Hey," she said again.

As if in slow motion, Jessica and Paul gathered their trays and moved to another table. Dumbstruck, Claire turned her head away, willing the tears not to fall. She felt both alone and as if she was the center of attention. But when she looked up, everyone else was looking away except for Benny and Jena who smiled spitefully at her.

She couldn't take it. Rushing from the cafeteria, Claire caught Brian Johnson's eye. He looked at her, pity mixed with glee on his face, but said nothing. Then he too turned his back to her as he leaned in to listen to something his friend was saying.

* * *

"Tell me the truth Brian," Cliff said as he stuffed fries into his mouth. "Do you think I have a chance with Claire Standish?"

Glancing once more at Claire, he said, "No."

"C'mon Brian. It's our time. The geeks are inheriting the earth."

"What?" Brian asked, a smile spreading across his face. Cliff's unwavering enthusiasm about life never ceased to amaze him. He was a stone cold geek and proud of it, into computers, UFOs, aliens, and Dungeons and Dragons.

"Listen," Cliff said leaning towards Brian and waving his hands excitedly. "Ted is dating Caroline Mulford. The prom queen, Brian. Ted is dating the freaking prom queen! Wyatt has a girlfriend. You know Gary had to have been making time with that chick he created. The way I see it, geeks are the new sex symbols. So I repeat, do you think I have a chance with Claire Standish?"

Brian shot a quick glance at Larry Lester and Bryce. "No," they all said together then started laughing.

"Despite his ridiculous obsession with Claire Standish, I think Cliff is on to something," Larry said taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

"Thanks man."

"Have you seen the blonde Duckie Dale is hanging with?" Larry asked.

"Kristy," Cliff said dreamily.

"Well I know the Kristys of the world aren't my type, but I do have my eye on someone far more accessible and a lot more exciting."

"Who?" Brian asked.

"That girl who walked down the hall naked last week."

"Allison?" Brian spit out, almost choking on the Coke he had been drinking. He coughed, his eyes watering, as he fought for breath.

"Allison," Larry continued unperturbed. "Can you hook us up?"

Brian couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had the entire world gone crazy? First Allison walks down the hall naked and now this.

"Well," Brian hedged. "She kinda likes someone."

"Who?"

"I can't say." There was no way he was going to tell Larry that Allison liked Andrew Clark. It had been weeks since Andy had taped his butt cheeks together, and except for him, Cliff, Bryce, and a few other guys, he still couldn't bring himself to look people in the eye.

"You know who my dream girl is?" Bryce asked as he pushed his tray away from him. Half eaten pizza lay in its wake.

"Sloane Peterson," they all said in unison.

"Bro, there's no way she'll leave Ferris Bueller for you," Cliff said.

"Weren't you the one who just said the geeks were inheriting the universe?"

"Yeah, but from the assholes. Ferris is cool."

"What about you Brian?" Bryce asked. "Who would you go out with?"

"No one. All the great girls are taken." Andie Walsh, Samantha Baker, Sloane Peterson.

"You know who would be the perfect woman?" Cliff asked.

"Who?" Larry replied.

"Smurfette."

"Dude, she's a cartoon character," Brian said.

"And your point is," Cliff and Bryce said together.

* * *

Claire barely made it through the rest of the day. On Tuesdays, she had social committee meetings, but she knew either no one would show up or they'd be uncooperative. Benny had said she'd make her life hell and she was a woman of her word. So Claire went home. Thankfully, her mother was out, probably at some charity board meeting. Her father was at the office. Francine, the housekeeper, had the day off. Once in her bedroom, Claire turned on her Sony stereo, a Christmas gift from her father, and cranked up Blondie. After taking off her jacket and kicking off her shoes, she plopped down on her bed and stared blankly at the ceiling, a Police poster (Sting was a god), and a picture of her and Jessica taken over the summer at Glencoe Beach.

What was she going to do? She couldn't sleep with Andrew. But if she didn't, Benny would crush her. Hell, she'd already gotten to Jessica and Paul. And Benny's wrath was legend. Two years ago, she'd lied and gotten the biology teacher fired because he'd embarrassed her in front of the class for talking to Caroline Mulford instead of paying attention to the lesson. Last year, she'd nominated Jeanie Bueller for Homecoming Queen as a joke and Jeanie hadn't been the same since.

As Blondie's "Call Me" played on her tape deck, Claire suddenly realized how alone she was. If Benny was able to turn her two best friends against her so easily, what choice did she have but to do her bidding?


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the feedback everyone; it's greatly appreciated.

* * *

Claire yawned as she slowly made her way to her locker. She'd been up all night tossing and turning thinking about what Benny had asked her to do. Needless to say, she didn't want to do it, but there seemed no way out.

Then she turned the corner, and stopped.

Looking at her painted over locker, suddenly gave her an idea.

She didn't know what class he had this period, but a good place to look for him would be the basement. That was where the shop classrooms were. It was also where the burnouts hung out when it was too cold to go outside.

She rushed down the stairs. As she descended into the basement, the smell of wood shavings and oil made her nose tickle. The hallway was wide and starkly lit. It contained a third of the classrooms the other floors did, and at the end of it, she saw him, surrounded by his friends.

He was dressed as he usually was – in ripped jeans and a flannel shirt. And even from a distance, she could make out his muscular legs and strong chest. Don't, Claire said to herself, a mix of emotions flooding her, the dominant one being fear. How could she approach him with all those guys around? Every fiber of her being told her to turn and run, but she couldn't. It was now or never. There was no turning back. So she waited, hoping he would see her and walk over.

When he finally looked up, their eyes locked, a jolt of electricity shooting through her.

Then he went back to talking to his friends.

Damn it John, she said to herself. Of course, he wouldn't make this easy for her. Sighing, she swung her suede bag over her shoulder, and purposefully strode down the hall toward him.

"John," she said softly when she reached him.

All conversation stopped as the guys turned to look at her.

"Can I talk to you?"

"You know this chick Bender?" one of his friends asked giving her the once over.

"What chick?" Bender said looking around exaggeratedly. "I don't see nobody."

"John," Claire said pleadingly. "I really need to talk to you. It's about Allison."

* * *

Allison, Bender thought, intrigued. What could Claire possibly have to say about Allison that was so important she'd come all the way down to preppy no man's land and risk being seen talking to him. This had to be good.

"What?" he said staring at her. Even agitated, she was beautiful with her soft auburn hair and freckle kissed skin. Don't dumbass, he said to himself. Don't even think about it.

"Can I talk to you alone?" she asked giving the guys an uneasy glance.

"Whatever," he said, trudging down the hall.

"Where are your manners Bender? You going to introduce us?" Dez called after him.

The other guys laughed.

He ignored them, stepping into an empty classroom. As soon as Claire entered the room, he closed the door behind her. "What the fuck do you want Claire?"

* * *

She felt her face heat up and her pulse quicken – from fear, from shame … from desire. Girls like her didn't end up with guys like him. And though she'd been telling herself that ever since they'd met, she was drawn to him. John Bender was like no other guy she knew. There was something almost primal about him that fascinated her.

"I need your help."

"You need my help," he said with an amused tone. "You can't honestly believe I'd help you?" He moved toward the door.

She reached for his arm.

"Then please help Allison. Benny Hanson is out to get her. She wants me to …." She couldn't bring herself to say the words aloud. What Benny wanted her to do was just so unreal.

"What?" Bender asked, his impatience evident.

"She wants me to sleep with Andrew," Claire said in a rush.

"What the fuck?"

"It's insane, I know. Of course, I don't want to do it. Andy and Allison are my friends."

"Your friends," Bender said taking a step towards her. Instinctively, she drew back. He was taller than she was and seemed to fill the entire room. That and he seemed on the verge of exploding, his anger about to rain down on her at any moment. "Your friends," he repeated louder, loathing in his voice. "Have you even spoken to Allison since detention?"

She said nothing.

"Have you?" he demanded.

"No," she said softly, turning away.

"Look at me. I saw how you treated Brian that day in the cafeteria. So what's this sudden interest in Allison?"

"Benny …."

"Do you do everything people tell you to do? If I told you to suck my dick, would you do that?"

"Fuck you," Claire screamed. She could feel hot tears forming behind her eyes, but she'd be damned if John Bender saw her cry. She turned and made a dash for the door. Rushing down the hall, she could see his friends staring at her, but she didn't care. Her mind was on one thing and one thing only, getting the hell out of there.

She ran and ran until she reached her locker. Shaking, she turned the combination lock. After grabbing her jacket, she ran down to the first floor, and out a side door.

A blast of cold air greeted her, hitting her in the face. Instead of drawing back from its sting, she embraced it. To her left was the student parking lot, she ran to it and her father's BMW, letting herself inside. Since Jessica and Paul were no longer talking to her, she'd had to borrow it to get to school.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Claire said to herself as she banged her open palm against the car's steering wheel. No longer able to stop them, the tears began to fall. God how she hated herself. So much so, she felt like gouging her own eyes out.

Allison had walked down the halls of Shermer naked. Brian had had the courage to approach her that Monday after detention knowing the risk. And Bender? He was courage personified. Why was she so weak?

Laying her forehead against the steering column, Claire closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she began to calm herself. Only then, the fog covering her mind began to lift and the obvious became clear.

Yes, Shermer was a social minefield and the thought of maneuvering it alone terrified her, but if she were to do Benny's bidding, she'd be one sick, twisted, fucked up person.

At last, she looked up. Standing at her passenger side door was Bender. Wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her hand, she smiled weakly at him, then reached across the seat and unlocked the door.

Looking uncertainly at her, he slid into the seat, slamming the door behind him. They sat in silence, peaking at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"Look Claire," he said finally. "I'm sorry for being such an ass back there."

"No, you were right. I can't believe how stupid I am."

"You're not stupid," he said reaching out and touching her hand.

"Yeah I am," she said looking up. There was a softness in his eyes that she'd never really noticed before, not even that time she'd kissed him in the closet during detention. "I should have told Benny no from the beginning, but I didn't know how to stand up to her. I still don't. I just don't want to be alone, you know."

John sighed. "You don't have to be alone. Brian, Allison, Andy, and I, we would have stuck by you. But I guess our friendship isn't good enough for you," he said turning away.

Claire faced forward. She hated to admit it, but he was right. Jessica, Paul, and that crew's friendship had been much more important to her than Allison's, Brian's, and John's. But why? That was the $64,000 question. For one, she'd known her popular, richie friends all of her life and as tenuous as it was, they had history. That said, she hadn't been truly honest with them since grade school.

"I don't know," she finally answered. "I guess because they're like me. We come from the same place."

* * *

Allison quietly let herself into the house. Unlike other homes that were alive with activity, hers had a museum quality to it with its gold flecked white marble floors, alabaster walls, vaulted ceilings, and fine art.

"Allison," her father called from the living room.

She jumped. What was he doing home! 

"Your mother and I want to talk to you."

Oh fuck, she thought to herself. This could only mean one thing: Mr. Hashimoto must have called.

Cautiously, she entered the room.

The Reynolds living room was tastefully furnished with brown leather sofas and high backed chairs. In a corner near the window stood a black Steinway piano. On the floor lay an Oriental rug that her parents had bought on a trip to Morocco.

Without saying a word, Allison sat down in one of the chairs across from where her mother sat on the sofa.

Beth Reynolds was stunning with her slight frame, creamy skin, and silky black hair cut into a fashionable bob. She sat stiffly, legs folded at the knees, hands folded on her lap, refusing to look at Allison.

Next to her mother, sat her father. He too was attractive – tall with an athletic build, a ruddy complexion, and distinguished graying temples. Sometimes, when her parents thought they were alone, they'd touch – her father's hand on the small of her mother's back, her mother touching his hair. Then they'd notice her and pull apart.

"Mr. Hashimoto called," her father said matter of factly.

Allison steeled herself. She had no idea what her parents' reaction would be. On the one hand, they'd made an art out of ignoring her, on the other; her mother was very much about order. Everything and everyone had to be in its place. Walking down the halls of Shermer naked was definitely out of place.

"Why Allison?' her father asked solemnly. "Why would you do something so …?" His voice trailed off.

Weird, she silently finished for him. Stupid.

"I don't know," she said softly. It just seemed easier to lie than to try to explain the truth.

"You don't know," her mother repeated stiffly, finally turning to face her. "You parade around the high school naked like a nutcase and you don't know why."

Allison could feel the heat of her mother's anger, which burned like a forest fire.

"Now Beth," her father said, reaching out and patting her mother's hand.

"No Richard. What is the point of us sending her to that psychiatrist if she's going to act like this? Apparently, he's not making her better."

Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore, her emotions flowing like water from a faucet. "There's nothing wrong with me!" Allison screamed, raising then dropping her arms in frustration.

"How dare you talk to us like that. After what you did …," her mother began.

"What about what the two of you have done to me?"

"Allison," her father said.

"Leaving me alone. Ignoring me. Look at me. I exist."

"I'm not listening to this another second," Beth said standing. "I will not be blamed for you acting like a whore."

"Beth."

"Richard don't. Don't give in to her," Beth said walking away.

"Walk away. That's what you've always done. You've ignored me for the past seven years. There's no reason to act like you care now."

"Allison, you know we care about you," her father said. Then he went after her mother. "Beth."

Allison slumped into her chair, exhausted.

As hard as she tried to fight them, the tears came. She'd thought she was free from caring what her parents thought, but suddenly she felt like that nine-year-old girl who'd come home from school for Christmas break to find her parents off to London for the holiday without her while she stayed home with the housekeeper.

* * *

Claire made it a point not to look at the other girls in the locker room as she changed into her gym uniform. It was just too depressing. While she was flat as a board and looked about twelve, Caroline Mulford looked twenty-three. She must have flunked a few grades, there was no way else to explain it. Even Watts, Keith Nelson's tomboy girlfriend, was at least a C cup.

Then seemingly out of nowhere, just as she was tying her shoes, Jena and Benny surrounded her.

"Well," Benny said pointedly.

Immediately, Claire's fight or flight mechanism kicked in causing adrenaline to course through her veins. Running, however, was definitely out of the question. She had to do this, no matter the consequences. "No," she said, her voice squeaking slightly.

"No?" Jena repeated closing in on her.

"You heard me," Claire said with a bravado she didn't feel. "Allison and Andy are my friends. I won't hurt them."

"I warned you Claire. No one worth knowing at Shermer will have anything to do with you."

"I disagree. I think I'll do just fine.  
"Don't count on it," Benny said. She turned and left the locker room followed by Jena.

Claire looked around. Twenty pairs of eyes stared back at her. Emboldened, she stared back at some of them. Quickly, they turned away.

Sighing, she sat on the bench. Things were now set in motion and there was no turning back.


	9. Chapter 9

Claire took a deep breath as she slammed her locker door shut. Today was B day. She'd declared war on Benny and it was time to face the consequences. So with a determination she didn't feel, she began the long walk to class.

She saw former friends huddled in groups whispering and girls who had worshipped her staring silently as she passed.

It had been like that all morning. Jessica and Paul had ignored her during English Lit as they talked about a party at Stubby's over the weekend. Earlier, she could have sworn she'd heard someone say "loser" as she walked by. Entering trig, Claire made her way to her usual seat. As students trickled in, they glanced at her but said nothing. Kate Trombley, tall, thin, blonde, and one of Benny's crew reached out her hand and knocked Claire's trig book to the floor as she passed.

"Freak," Kate said under her breath, loud enough for Claire to hear as she took a seat across the aisle from her.

Claire blushed profusely as she bent down to pick up her book. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. But she bit her bottom lip in an effort to hide from them how much they were beginning to upset her.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Miller, the trig teacher, entered the room and began writing equations on the board. Claire tried to concentrate, but was disturbed when a balled up sheet of paper hit her in the side of the head.

She turned around.

"Bitch," Kate mouthed to her.

"Is there a problem Ms. Trombley?" Mrs. Miller asked.

Oh shit, Claire thought as she turned to face the math teacher.

"No," Kate said.

"Claire is there a problem?" the teacher asked her.

"No."

Mrs. Miller gave her an uncertain look, but returned to writing on the board.

"Slut," a voice said from behind her. Then someone kicked her chair. This went on all period. Needless to say, Claire was relieved when the class ended. As she stood to gather her things, Monica Capshaw, a petite cheerleader and another richie bumped into her.

"Excuse you," she said bouncing out the door.

"Stop it," Sloane Peterson said as she followed Monica out of the room. As she passed, she gave Claire a sympathetic look.

No way was she going to the cafeteria; there was no telling what humiliation awaited her there. Instead, Claire inched along until she reached the auditorium where she quietly slipped inside and took a seat in the back … way in the back.

She'd never hung out here before. She'd never had to. But today had been proof of Benny's power. People she'd known for years acted as if she didn't exist … or worst. She wasn't sure she could get through the rest of the school year like this. How would she fill the time she was destined to spend alone? She really didn't have any hobbies except for shopping and that was no fun alone. She liked music – The Rave Ups, Blondie, Elvis Costello, but she couldn't walk around with headphones on all day. She sighed as she reached into her bag and pulled out a copy of Vogue.

"I thought you'd be here. Here or the library," a male voice said from behind her. Startled, she looked up. John Bender stood over her, a smile on his face. She smiled back. He jumped over the auditorium seats and landed with a thud in the seat next to her.

"How's it going?"

"Lousy," she said.

"That good huh."

"Well when you cross Benny Hanson …"

"You did the right thing. I know you could never have done such a shitty thing to Allison and Andy."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said, bumping her shoulder against his.

"Look, you can't hide out here forever. You can't let Benny win."

"I'm like a leper. No one would be caught dead associating with me."

"Why don't you sit with me and my friends tomorrow in the cafeteria?"

"Thanks, but …."

"I see, we aren't good enough for you," he said standing.

"No," she said jumping up. "Benny's my problem. You'd be crazy to make her your problem too."

"Unlike you, I don't give a damn what Benny Hanson thinks." With that, he gave her a wink and a smile then began walking away. "See you tomorrow at lunch Claire," he said over his shoulder.

* * *

Man, that woman has me twisted, Bender thought as he eased down the hall toward the stairs that led to the shop classrooms. Benny wasn't his problem per se, but he'd been tired of her and her kind for quite a while now and it was past time to scratch that itch.

But first, he had to talk to his friends.

* * *

The next afternoon, Bender made his way to the lunchroom. As planned, Dez, Marty, and the other guys had snagged a table in the center of the room. The richies, who sat at the next table, glared at them for invading their territory but said nothing.

He hoped Claire showed. He knew she was scared, and he wanted to protect her, to be there for her if only she would let him.

"Bender, this is the best idea you've ever had. The preppies are pissed," Marty said as Bender slid into the chair next to him.

"Yeah, but I'm still not sure we should have gotten involved with Benny Hanson and this girl Claire. It's none of our business if two richies want to go at it," Dez said from across the table.

"Man, aren't you tired of Benny and that whole crew acting like they're the shit?"

"Yeah but …."

"But nothing. Did you guys do what I asked?"

All around the table, the guys shook their heads yes.

"I don't know how many will show up though. Where's this chick Claire anyway?" Marty asked.

"She'll be here." I hope, Bender thought.

As if on cue, Claire stepped into the cafeteria looking nervously around. At last, she spotted him and quickly made her way over.

* * *

"Hey," she said quietly, sitting down across from Bender. If anyone had told her a few month ago that she'd not only be having lunch with the burnouts, but that they'd be the only friends she'd have, she would have sworn they were doing some serious coke.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Claire," Marty said extending his hand. "Not too many people have the guts to stand up to Benny."

She shook his hand. "I'm not sure guts have anything to do with it. I think I may be crazy."

The guys laughed.

Claire began to calm down. They were here because of John; she knew that. But she was grateful just the same.

"The key to Benny's power is her ability to get other people to go along and do her dirty work for her," Dez said next to her. "We just have to show her that enough people don't give a fuck what she thinks."

"Thanks," Claire said to Dez while looking at Bender.

"I guess we should eat. It is lunchtime," John said.

Self-consciously, Claire took out her lunch. The guys had bought food from the cafeteria – burgers, fries, pizza. She imagined she looked like a prissy princess with her salad and Diet Coke.

Benny had told her she'd be down, out, and alone, but she wasn't. She had John and his friends.

"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked. Claire looked up to see Andie Walsh staring down at her, a smile on her face. Next to her stood Blaine.

"Sure," Claire said looking around uncertainly.

Claire shot Bender a look. He looked away, but not before, she noticed a smile playing on his face. She knew that Benny and Andie had exchanged words, but she never would have guessed the other girl would stand with her. And Blaine. She'd stopped associating with him after he'd fallen out with Steff. Yet here he was.

"Room for one more?" Amanda Jones asked, stopping at the table.

"Hell yeah," Marty said looking over at Amanda and giving her a big smile. Then he pulled out the chair next to him for her to sit down.

"Thanks," she said.

"Hey Bender, what's up?" Keith Nelson said walking up, his arm around his girlfriend Watts. "Amanda," he added.

"Nothing man. Have a seat," Bender replied. "The party's just getting started.

A low hum emanated from the nearby preppy table. Benny didn't look pleased.

"Move over Dez," Jeannie Bueller said pulling up a chair next to him.

"What's up guys?" Ferris said followed by Sloane and Cameron Frye.

"Hey Ferris," everyone said in unison. Benny may have been Queen Bitch but Ferris was King Shit. Everyone liked him – the jocks, preppies, burnouts, punks, and nerds.

"Wow," Claire said amazed. "Thanks so much you guys." She felt as if she were about to cry she was so overcome.

"Don't thank us," Dez said as he stuffed a fry in his mouth. "Thank Bender. He put this all together."

"Thanks John," she said, smiling shyly. She tapped his foot under the table.

"Whatever," he said.

* * *

"What's going on over there?" Larry asked, craning his neck to get a better view of the burnout table.

"Beats me," said Bryce as he took a bite of his cheeseburger.

Brian remained silent. Yesterday as he was leaving physics club, he'd found Bender waiting for him. He hadn't spoken to John since Saturday detention.

_"Hey man," Bender said running his hand through his brown hair._

_"What's up?" Brian said shooting him a quick glance and heading down the hall._

_"Wait up Brian; I need to talk to you. Look," Bender said clapping him on the shoulder. "Claire's in trouble. I know. I know. I know," he said holding his hands up in supplication. "She acted like a bitch that day in the cafeteria, but she could use your support."_

_Claire. He was tired of how the world seemed to revolve around her. "Look Bender," Brian said, his voice shaking slightly. "I know you care about Claire, but I just want to leave that whole detention thing behind."_

_"I understand. But Benny Hanson asked Claire to sleep with Andy as a fucked up way to punish Allison and tomorrow a few of us will stand with Claire, show Benny that we don't give a damn what she thinks."_

_"You're telling me this because …," Brian said then he turned to leave, but stopped. He was tired of being intimidated by the John Benders of the world, tired of not mattering. "Why haven't you said anything to me until now?"_

_"What?"_

_"You've spoken to Allison, and I assume with Andy, and obviously Claire. Why haven't you spoken to me until now?"_

_"I don't know man," Bender said leaning against the wall as he stuffed his hands in his front jeans pocket. "As hard as this may be for you to believe, Claire and Andy needed me. Allison, I kinda think of us as the same, both outcasts. Besides, what would we talk about?" Bender said with a small laugh._

_"You know my life isn't perfect; I tried to kill myself for god's sake."  
"Dude, it was a flare gun."_

_Brian smiled in spite of himself. "Still."_

_"Look, even though we aren't buddy buddy, I still consider you my friend."_

_"Thanks Bender."_

_"Whatever," John said hoisting himself up then sauntering down the hall._

* * *

A few minutes later, Cliff breezed over and plopped into the seat next to Bryce.

"Dudes, the fit has hit the shan."

"What?" Bryce asked.

"Benny Hanson has declared war on Claire Standish."

"Girl fight," Larry screamed laughing.

"Apparently, Claire slept with Andrew Clark. Sorry Larry, he who must not be named. This friend of Benny's likes him and Claire slept with him just to piss her off."

"No way," Bryce said.

"Way."

"That's not true," Brian said, putting down his chocolate milk.

"I don't know Brian," Larry began. "You know how vicious the popular kids can be. I wouldn't be surprised …."

"No," Brian said emphatically, cutting Larry off. "Trust me; Claire wouldn't do something like that."

"How do you know?" Larry challenged.

"I just do. Look, you know that Saturday I had detention."

"Uh huh," they all said in unison.

"Claire Standish and Andrew Clark were there."

"Man why didn't you tell us?" Bryce asked.

"I don't know. But my point is they have some serious problems."

"Puleez," Larry scoffed.

"No listen Larry," Brian said turning to face him. "I know you hate Andrew and you have a right to."

"I don't hate him. I just think he's a stupid, lunk-head, jock asshole."

"Larry, you don't know how lucky you are. The relationship you have with your dad. You guys get along, right?"

"I guess."

"Andrew doesn't have that. And neither does Claire."

"That still doesn't explain how you know they aren't doing each other," Larry replied.

"Because Claire likes someone else. And you know Allison?"

"The girl who walked down the hall naked?"

"Yeah. She likes Andrew and Andrew likes her and Claire knows this."

"Maybe this Allison is the friend Benny was talking about."

"Get real. Benny Hanson and Allison. Friends. Please."

* * *

Though pandemonium surrounded her, Claire was very much aware of Brian sitting a few tables away. She owed him an apology. Big time. Quietly, she slipped out of her chair and away from the lunch table. No one was paying any attention to her anymore. They were too busy having fun and pissing off Benny.

Slowly she made her way to Brian's table. She didn't know what to expect from him. He had every right to tell her to go to hell.

"May I sit down?" she asked softly, looking pointedly at Brian. She couldn't help noticing that all conversation had stopped when she'd approached the table. Not only that, she had three pairs of eyes staring up at her, as Brian looked conspicuously down.

"Sure," Cliff said breathlessly.

"Brian?" she asked.

"Go ahead."

She sat.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I treated you that Monday after detention. It was a cowardly, shitty thing to do."

"Forget it."

"No, I can't. I shouldn't. I hope that someday you can forgive me."

"I've been thinking a lot since that day, and maybe you were right about me and my motives. Maybe I did want to hang with the popular kids."

"That still doesn't excuse what I did."

"No one's perfect Claire," Brian said, finally looking up.

* * *

Allison climbed out of bed and stomped to the bathroom. Today was day three of her suspension. The first two days she'd moped around the house watching daytime TV. Today, she was going to go to the beach. Granted it was the end of March and there was still a definite chill in the air, but the lakefront was bound to be empty and that was just what she needed.

After dressing and putting on her coat, she grabbed a bagel, rushed out the door, and climbed into her red Honda Civic. She drove around the deserted streets of Shermer until she found Lake Cook Rd. then she drove east toward Lake Michigan. When she reached the nearby suburb of Glencoe, she turned left at Park Ave. and jetted toward the beach. The parking lot was empty. She climbed out of her car, swinging her big black bag over her shoulder and followed the ramp down the ravine, then she raced down the stairs to the beach.

This time of year, the concession stand was closed. At the far end of the beach, she saw some workmen, at the lake's edge was a woman running with her golden retriever.

Allison walked along a path until she reached the dock. She made her way to its fenced off edge. Placing her hand on the railing, she looked out at the choppy, grey waters of Lake Michigan. The sky was stark white; the wind blew hard.

She hadn't spoken to her parents since their big blowup Friday afternoon. It had took some time, but she'd finally calmed down. It was no use fighting them. They just didn't understand her.

She refused to hate herself. That had been her reasoning when she'd walked down that hall naked and it was her reasoning now.

"Fuck you," she screamed into the wind. "Fuck. You." It felt good to let it out, to act weird. She wasn't hurting anyone; she wasn't a criminal. She just wanted to be free to be herself. Sure, having people accept her for her would be nice, but she'd be damned if their acceptance became like food and water to her. Besides, she now had people who cared about her. She had Brian and Bender. And though she had no illusions that they'd ride off into the sunset together, their tenuous friendship was a start.

She turned and plopped down on a bench facing the water. Sighing, she reached into her bag and pulled out her sketchpad and Walkman. As she clicked the play button on the cassette player, John Lennon's "Imagine" flooded her ears.


	10. Chapter 10

After yesterday's high of watching Benny Hanson fall flat on her face and being Claire's knight in shining armor, nothing could bring Bender down – not his father, not Vernon, not the teachers who'd written him off years ago, and not the rain falling from the sky. As he walked across the muddy athletic field behind the school, he noticed a familiar figure leaving the rear exit of the athletic building and cutting across the field in front of him.

Andrew. He'd pretty much said all he had to say to him, but still Bender couldn't let things go. The guy wasn't all that bad really; he just needed to stand for something, anything.

"Sporto," he screamed into the wind and rain. "Sport."

It was no use, his words only ended up being thrown back in his face. With a groan, Bender took off in a run, trying not to slip and fall in the muddy grass.

"Andrew," he shouted as he tapped the other boy on the shoulder.

Andrew turned and upon recognizing John, his blank face turned into a scowl. "Jesus Bender."

"Close but not quite."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Sport, I've taken it upon myself to help you grow some balls. Call it community service."

"Fuck off."

"Dude, the chicks have put their asses on the line for you. Now it's time for you to step up to the plate." Up ahead was a brick field house. Bender signaled for Andrew to follow him there. There they could seek shelter under the overhanging roof from the pounding rain.

"What are you talking about?" Andrew asked as soon as they stepped out of the rain and into the relative safety of the field house's roof.

"You know that whole Allison walking down the hall naked thing was about you. And Claire stood up to Benny Hanson trying to save your ass and you know what a bitch Benny is."

As Bender related the story, a look of helpless confusion flashed across Andrew's face. Bender couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He wondered if the guy had it in him to make life work. He had tried to kill himself after all. "Look Sport, Allison cares about you. She'd never admit it now because of the way you treated her, but that girl would go to the mat for you. How many people would do that?"

"Not many, but …"

"But what?"

"Even though she's considered a freak, she's too good for me. That day she approached me, I could see in her eyes that she expected so much more from me than I could ever give. I can't live up to her expectations."

"Allison doesn't need you to prop her up. To be honest, you need her more than she needs you."

"I know and that scares me too."

"You can't keep living in fear man. Aren't you tired of hiding and pretending?"

Yeah, but how can I break free, Andrew thought. Everyone had a different opinion of him, and expected him to behave accordingly. His friends saw him one way, his father another. Coach saw him a different way still, not to mention everyone else. Being with Allison would force his worlds to collide, and that could only lead to one thing. Nuclear annihilation. Then where would he be?

"Earth to Sport, come in Sport," Bender said waving his hands in front of Andrew's face.

"What?"

"Dude, you totally spaced out for a minute."

"Sorry."

"You need to do something. I found your ass parked across a railroad track a few weeks back. If you keep living the way you're living, you're going to end up dead."

"Whatever," Andy said stuffing his hands in his front pockets. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. "Look, I need to get home." Without waiting for a response, he started across the athletic field.

"Think about what I said Sport," Bender shouted at Andrew's retreating back. Then he turned up the collar of his worn leather jacket, hunched his shoulders against the rain, and began the trek to Dez's house.

* * *

Claire scanned the wet street in front of her looking for Allison's house. She'd gotten her address from the student directory and was surprised to learn that she lived not too far from her. It was funny how close yet so far they'd been from each other.

Claire pulled her father's black BMW in front of a white colonial. She contemplated taking her umbrella but decided against it, it was only a quick dash from the car to the covered drive.

She rang the bell.

A few minutes later, a short, full-figured Latina woman opened the door.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice lilting and accented.

"Hi," Claire said giving the woman a quick smile. "Is Allison home?"

"She is. Come in," the woman said enthusiastically as she stepped aside and allowed Claire to enter. Though her own home wasn't too shabby, Allison's house was immaculate with its white marble foyer and cathedral ceiling. In fact, it reminded Claire of a museum lobby.

"Just a minute," the woman said. She walked over to an intercom and pushed a red button. "Allison, you have a guest." She turned back to Claire, "She'll be down in a moment."

Sure enough, seconds later, Allison appeared on the landing.

"Claire," she said surprised.

"Hey," Claire said waving uncertainly.

"What are you doing here?" Allison asked as she made her way down the stairs.

"I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing."

"Well you've seen me."

Claire took a deep breath. What did she expect? She hadn't spoken to Allison since detention and here she was showing up at her house unannounced. Claire watched as she continued down the stairs. She hadn't told her to go to hell and she hadn't run back upstairs – a good sign Claire hoped. At last, Allison reached the bottom step. "So Claire, what's really going on?"

"I'm here to ask for your forgiveness."

"For what?"

"For being a bitch. For not coming by sooner."

"Forget it Claire. I know you had a lot more at stake than the rest of us."

"That's the thing. The people who I thought were my friends really weren't. I know that now. It took you, John, Andrew, and Benny Hanson to make me see that. I'm sorry. I hardly know you, but you're more my friend than they ever were." Her throat tightened and her eyes began to water, jerkily, she wiped away the tears. "You must think I'm an idiot."

"No, I don't." Allison walked up to Claire and bumped her shoulder against Claire's.

Claire smiled. Who would have ever guessed she'd end up friends with Allison Reynolds. "So what were you doing before I disturbed you?"

"Nothing. Just staring at the ceiling. I got over daytime TV days ago, nothing but soap operas and I Love Lucy reruns."

"Do you wanna hang out?"

Allison hesitated a moment. "Sure," she finally said. "What kind of music do you listen to?"

"The Police, David Bowie, Bruce Springsteen, Blondie."

"Great, I have Synchronicity, Ziggy Stardust, and Born to Run upstairs. We could listen to records."

"Okay."

For the first time in a long while, Allison had a friend over to the house.

* * *

They sat on her bedroom floor, a bowl of Doritos between them, albums and cassette tapes scattered around them when the doorbell rang.

A few minutes later, Rosa's voice came through the intercom. "Allison honey, there's a boy here to see you."

A boy, she thought. She gave Claire a look that said, "I don't have a clue who that could be" as she pushed herself off the floor then headed downstairs.

Standing at the bottom of the steps was Andrew.

"Hi," he said sheepishly. He was dressed as usual in Nikes, jeans, and his letterman's jacket. Allison could tell that he was uncomfortable. He should be, she thought. She'd be damned if she would go out of her way to put him at ease. "Sorry to bother you. I hope you don't mind me just dropping by."

"There seems to be a lot of that today."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. What are you doing here and how did you get my address?"

"The student directory."

Damn that directory, never again would she allow her address to be printed in that thing. "So what can I do for you?"

"Well first off, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted that Monday after detention. I was an ass and there was no excuse for it."

While his words did touch her, if he thought she could be swayed by mere words, he was in for a surprise.

"Look," Andrew said stepping to her and grabbing her hands. "It was me, not you. I was the problem. Someone told me today that I needed to grow a pair and he was right."

Bender, Allison thought and couldn't help smiling to herself. For someone who was supposed to be the spawn of Satan, he seemed to be everyone's guardian angel (Claire had told her about Benny Hanson).

"Secondly, I was wondering if you'd let me make things up to you?"

"No."

"What?"

"Look Andrew, I know you mean well and that you probably believe what you're saying, but the gulf between us is too wide. Besides, I'm not going through that self-loathing bullshit again. Plus, me dressing like a preppie was a one time performance."

Allison waited for him to say something, but he didn't. And that was okay. She didn't need Andrew to respond. It was enough that she'd said her peace. "I think you should go," she said at last. She walked over to the front door and opened it. Silently, she waited for him to leave. He sighed, defeat washing over him. "Goodbye Andrew."

"Bye Allison," he said as he crossed the threshold, then he ran down the drive.

* * *

She used to hate Monday mornings because they signaled another long, boring, lonely week of so-called higher education. Another week of being invisible. But today, Monday morning meant hanging out in study hall with Brian and eating lunch with Claire.

As soon as her fifth period English Lit class ended, Allison headed for the cafeteria instead of the darkened auditorium or the stairwell where she usually ate lunch. As had been happening all day, people stopped to stare and point at her, the crazy girl who had walked down the hall naked. Well, what you expected, her mother would say.

After she'd been waiting for five minutes, Claire came rushing down the hall.

"Sorry I'm late. Ready to go?"

"Sure. Let's sit in the back," Allison suggested as soon as they entered the cafeteria.

"No, let's sit at this table."

"Are you some sort of masochist?" The table Claire had chosen was smack dab in the middle of the lunchroom. There was nowhere to hide from curious, prying eyes.

"No. We have to sit here."

"Why?" Allison asked suspiciously. What was going on?

"We just do."

"Whatever," Allison said. She didn't feel like arguing, and there was something in Claire's demeanor that told her Claire wasn't going to budge.

So she followed Claire to the table and sat down. Needless to say, they were like a circus act or animals on display at the zoo – all eyes seemed trained on them.

Purposefully, Allison took out her lunch.

"Let me guess, a Cap'N Crunch and pixie stix sandwich," Claire said smiling.

"Ham and cheese on rye," Allison said as she began unwrapping it.

While Claire ate her Cobb salad and Allison ate her ham and cheese on rye, they talked about music, Dynasty, Matt Dillon and Rob Lowe. They both loved Molly Ringwald and thought Mathew Broderick was adorable in War Games.

Suddenly Allison looked up to see Andrew coming their way.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Claire asked looking around. "Oh," she said as soon as she saw him. She began packing up her lunch.

"Where are you going?"

"Whatever happens, please don't hate me."

"Claire!"

Claire stood and gathered her things. "Hey Andy," she said then made her way to where John sat with his friends.

All at once, Allison felt vulnerable and exposed.

"Allison," Andy said walking up to her. "I meant what I said Friday."

"About what?"

"About wanting to be with you. I was an idiot. I know I hurt you and you have every right to be pissed at me, but I am begging you to forgive me."

"Andy."

"Allison, please," Andrew said as he climbed onto Claire's vacated chair then climbed onto the lunch table. Everyone in the cafeteria turned to look at them.

Oh fuck, Allison thought.

"Allison Reynolds, if you could find it in your heart, would you please forgive me," he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Andy, get down from there."

"Not until you forgive me."

"Give him another chance," a girl at another table shouted.

"Stop it," Allison hissed.

"I'll promise you anything. I'll be your boy toy, your sex slave."

Oh god, Allison thought as she covered her face with her hand. "Please stop."

"I'm going to kiss you Allison."

"Excuse me," she said a little sassily.

"I'm going to kiss you, right here, right now, in front of all these people," he said climbing down from the table and onto the chair then down from the chair onto the floor. Like some sexy beast, he approached her.

"Don't you dare."

"I can't hear you," he said bending down.

She considered pushing him away and bolting from the cafeteria. But instead, she decided to call his bluff. "I don't think you have the cajones Sport. What's everyone going to say? What will people think?" she taunted in a singsong voice.

"They'll probably think damn that lucky bastard; I bet he's getting some tonight."

Then he pressed his lips to hers. A bolt of electricity shot through her. Damn, he can kiss, she thought as she grabbed at his arms. But she already knew that.

Cheers and catcalls filled the cafeteria, but Allison was oblivious. She was making out with Andrew Clark and it was amazing. Finally, he pulled away. "Sorry," he said wiping his mouth. "I couldn't breathe."

"I just bet you couldn't. I can't believe you slipped me some tongue. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he gave her the kind of lazy, sexy smile that would give any girl fever.

* * *

Epilogue

"Trust me, you're going to love this place," Bender said as soon as the cab stopped in front of the Checkerboard Lounge.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Brian asked as the gang climbed onto the sidewalk. He'd heard horror stories about the city especially the south side - stories of gangs, guns, and drugs.

"It's fine. This place has the best blues in the city. Hopefully, the U of C kids haven't taken all the tables." A 6'4", 250 lb. black guy stood at the door. He nodded to the group but said nothing though he did give Brian a questioning look. Inside the front door were photographs of some of the bands that had played at the Checkerboard over the years including one of Muddy Waters and the Rolling Stones jamming on stage. The lounge area was dark, smelled of cigar and cigarette smoke mixed with beer, and infused in an eerie red light. It was indeed packed; college kids and locals sat side by side bobbing to the pulsating music. Bender scanned the room looking for an empty table. Finally, he spotted one in a back corner.

"Follow me," he shouted over the din. The Breakfast Club made their way to the table and sat down. It was a rickety old card table surrounded by metal folding chairs. A petite black woman with a Jheri Curl and a large gardenia pinned to her hair sauntered up to the table. "What can I get you Sugar?" she asked looking at Bender.

"A Miller. Andy is a Miller okay?"

"Yeah."

"What about you Brian?"

Brian looked around nervously. "I'm underage. Hey, aren't you guys …"

"He'll have a rum and Coke," Bender said cutting him off. "Ladies?"

"A rum and Coke sounds good," Claire said.

"I'll have one too," echoed Allison.

While the waitress went to get their drinks, they sat back and looked around. "I'm glad we were able to get together before the start of summer. Nothing beats good music, good brew, and good friends," Bender said. Though they hadn't known each other last summer, they were sorry they wouldn't be spending this summer together. In a few days, Claire would be off to Europe with her mother and Andy would be bagging groceries at Jewel. Brian had signed up to take accelerated summer classes at the University of Illinois in Urbana, and Bender would be working construction. Allison had plans to take art classes at the School of the Art Institute thanks to her father's connections.

They sat listening to Big Willie and the Cyclones. As the night wore on, Allison and Andy went to play pool while John sat with his arm around Claire, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Brian sat tapping out the beats of the music on the table with his fingers.

"So Brian, what do you think?" Bender asked as he watched the other boy begin to nod off.

"I think this is the most amazing night of my life so far."

"Who would have guessed we'd end up together," Bender said looking off into the distance at Allison and Andrew as they kissed while playing pool.

"Not me."

"Me neither. God has one fucked up sense of humor."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this story. It was much appreciated. 


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